


Feeling our way through

by elsiephoenix



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Dancing, M/M, Pianist Stiles Stilinski, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-13 03:22:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3365870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elsiephoenix/pseuds/elsiephoenix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So they played Just Dance 3, and it turned out that Derek really was the best at dancing. Out of all of them, he was the only one who never lost a round, and every time he won he took another shot. Stiles just watched from the floor. Through the haze of alcohol he caught himself staring at Derek’s butt. It was a very nice butt. Stiles didn’t actually try to stop himself from looking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feeling our way through

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this fic for the lovely llsterekll, who was my giftee in the Sterek Secret Santa 2014.

Derek had a bought a projector and plastered over an entire wall in the loft. It was the highlight of Stiles' week. At his insistence, Derek agreed to let everyone stay over for a weekend of video games and movie marathons, on the condition that they provide the food. Stiles thought that was a pretty sweet deal. Come saturday, Stiles, Scott, Isaac, Erica, Boyd, even Lydia and Allison were totally pumped up for the weekend. All seven of them showed up at the loft at ten o’clock, loaded down with video game consoles, a DVD player, snacks, sleepwear, beanbag chairs, and every game and movie that could fit in their arms. When Derek opened the door for them, he took one look at the pack before heaving a bone-deep sigh and slinking back to his bedroom. “So,” said Stiles, rubbing his hands together, “what should we play first?”

 

By the end of the day Derek had grudgingly joined them, and even played a few rounds of Mario Kart. The pack had made a nest on the floor out of beanbag chairs and blankets, and were all comfortably slumped together. The only problem, thought Stiles, was that he was slumped against Derek, and it was very hard to restrain himself from leaning over and sniffing his hair. His hair which for once was not full of gel but soft and slightly damp from his shower. Not to mention he could feel every movement Derek made. Stiles now knew that Derek had a slight tic in his right leg and that he tensed all his muscles when he was concentrating hard on something. Derek also grinned — yes, grinned, with teeth! — when he won a game, and it was a little overwhelming to be so close to this relaxed version of the surly werewolf Stiles had come to know. 

 

When Allison dug out some sort of wolfsbane concoction she said could get werewolves drunk, Derek’s only protest was that he take the first shot to make sure it wasn’t deadly.  

 

“It works,” giggled Derek a few shots later, “It definitely works.”

Stiles was lolling on the floor with a bottle of Jack in his hand. “We should — we should have a dance party!”

Derek giggled again. “I am the best a dance parties. I. Am. Best!”

 

So they played Just Dance 3, and it turned out that Derek really was the best at dancing. Out of all of them, he was the only one who never lost a round, and every time he won he took another shot. Stiles just watched from the floor. Through the haze of alcohol he caught himself staring at Derek’s butt. It was a very nice butt. Stiles didn’t actually try to stop himself from looking. 

 

The next morning was absolute hell. Stiles woke up to the dawn light streaming through the huge bay windows with his throat parched and his head pounding. He buried his face in the closest convenient pillow with a whine. The closest convenient pillow growled at him. So... maybe it was actually Derek’s neck. But Stiles hadn’t really been concerned with the details until’ his life had been threatened by an extremely hungover werewolf.  Too bad, he thought,  the old sourwolf will just have to put up with me. He promptly fell back asleep.

 

***

 

Stiles had been up till three in the morning compiling notes on the latest section of the bestiary that Lydia had translated. Then he’d gotten to school and had to write two tests in the morning. Coach had picked especially hard on him at practice. His Jeep had run out of fuel halfway home and he’d had to wait twenty minutes for Scott to bring him a jerry can of gas. He’d finally gotten home to his dad just pulling out of the driveway, yelling that he’d be at work too late again for dinner. In short, Stiles had had a crappy day. 

 

So he drove to Derek’s place to drop off a copy of the latest bestiary notes and maybe steal something from the fridge. He wearily climbed the stairs and banged on the door to the loft. 

 

“Come in,” yelled Derek, “I’m busy!”

“Too busy to open the door for me?”

“Yes.”

“Ugh, whatever. I have more notes for you.”

 

Stiles walked through into the kitchen and stopped dead in the doorway. He stared.  Surely  his eyes were deceiving him, because the scene in front of him could not be real. He blinked, and stared some more.

 

“You cook? You wear an apron? You listen to Diana Krall? You  sway to the beat ?”

“Stiles,” Derek sighed. “Why does this surprise you?”

Stiles ignored the question, but he knew the answer. The perfect picture of domesticity made his romantic heart beat faster. Not that he was ever telling Derek that. 

 

Stiles stayed for dinner and helped clean the dishes. Diana Krall crooned softly in the background, Derek hummed along.

 

***

 

The witch they were trying to contact refused to meet anywhere but at the Jungle.

 

“Why?” groused Derek as he and Stiles were driving there, “Why is everyone suddenly busy the minute we need to do something. And  why  are we meeting her at a gay bar. We don’t even know what she looks like.”

“She said I would recognize her when I saw her.”

“But you’ve never met her!”

“Well she’s the only lead we’ve got in this gorgon business, so suck it up. We’ll figure it out.”

“Fine, fine. Tell me again her exact instructions.”

Stiles rummaged in his pockets a bit before pulling out a piece of glittery pink paper.

“She left this message for me: 

Come with me to the jungle tonight

We’ll hunt down that cougar with glee

Chase her and give her snakes such a fright

As for me, you’ll know when you see  ”

“How do you know that you interpreted that right?”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Because on the other side of the paper there’s another note:  Meet @ Jungle 2nite. U’ll know who I am. ”

Derek huffed and ignored Stiles for the rest of the ride.

 

When they got to the Jungle, Derek pushed Stiles over to the bar. 

“No alcohol. Meet back here when you find her.”

“What about you?” Stiles asked.

“I’m here,” said Derek, “I might as well dance.” 

And with that, he was gone.

 

An hour had passed, and Stiles still hadn’t seen anyone he knew other than Derek. He hadn’t even seen that much of Derek apart from the couple of times the werewolf came back to check on him. He was getting antsy, and there’s only so much Coke one can drink before they start getting a sugar rush. Finally he decided he’d had enough of waiting around, so he pushed off from the bar and made his way onto the dance floor. He just stood still for a few seconds letting the beat and the bodies wash around him before he started dancing. He didn’t care who saw, didn’t care if nobody wanted to dance with him, he just wanted to let go. 

 

After a while Stiles became aware of a body behind him, moving with his own. He spun around and came face to face with Derek. They locked eyes, and Stiles felt like he couldn’t look away. He kept dancing, and Derek kept dancing, and they were dancing together. They drew closer together until they were almost chest to chest. Stiles noticed how dark Derek’s eyes were in the dim light. He noticed how they were almost exactly the same height. It would be so easy to just lean forward and kiss him. So easy…

 

“What the hell! Who are you?” Stiles was definitely not dancing with Derek anymore. As soon as their lips had touched Stiles had felt a shock run through his body, and when he opened his eyes he was looking down at a short brunette in a pink sparkly dress. She covered her mouth with her hand and giggled. 

“I told you you would recognize me! Aren’t I clever?”

“What did you do with Derek?”

“Oh, don’t worry, sweetie, Derek is fine. Oh, this was so much fun! I’ll go take care of the gorgon for you, you go find your boyfriend. Bye-bye!” She waved her fingers and flitted away.

 

***

 

Derek bought a Baby Grand. It was absolutely gorgeous in the afternoon sun when the light would come streaming in and bathe it in gold. It made Stiles’ fingers itch. 

 

One day he was sitting at the bench, his fingers hovering over the keys but not daring to touch them, when Derek slipped into the room. 

 

Stiles looked up at him with a sad smile. “My mother used to play. She taught me. She could play anything but I was only ever good at waltzes.” He looked back down at the keys. They were honey-warm and so, so enticing. 

 

Derek cleared his throat, padded over and sat down next to Stiles. “Laura was amazing. She used to dream about playing in Carnegie Hall, and I think she could have one day. I never tried because I knew I would never be as good as her, but I miss the sound of it sometimes.” He bumped their shoulders together. “I’d like it if you played.”

 

Stiles looked at Derek, really looked. The sunlight also made him beautiful. His eyes were squinting a little, and his lashes made stark shadows across his cheekbones. The corners of his lips were pulled back, just the slightest bit. His fingers tangled together in his lap looked warm to the touch, as inviting as the piano keys. 

 

Suddenly Derek’s eyes flicked up to meet Stiles’, as if sensing the attention. 

“Yeah,” Stiles said softly, “I think I’d like that too.”

 

Over the summer, Stiles visited the loft almost every day to play on the Baby Grand. He bought himself more sheet music and he taught himself to play more than just a waltz. He composed his own pieces, and when he did that Derek would drift even closer to him. He closed his eyes and played his heart out, Derek lay on the floor and watched the music flow from Stiles’ fingers. 

 

In late August, when the sun was at it’s peak and Stiles was filling the loft with soft melodies, Derek came and sat on the bench next to him. He stilled Stiles’ hands and whispered in his ear, “Dance with me.” 

 

Stiles turned his body towards Derek’s and touched their foreheads together. He smiled gently. 

 

“Derek,” he whispered back, “I don’t know how.”

“I’ll teach you.”

 

Stiles closed his eyes and breathed.

“Okay.”

 

***

 

“Dude, this is gonna be sick!”

“I know! There’s gonna be like fourteen other packs there!”

“There are gonna be fae! And dwarves!”

“I can’t believe Deaton didn’t tell us about this before.”

“Did you see Derek’s face? I don’t think even he knew about it.”

“Deaton did say it only started up a couple years ago.”

“Too bad Allison wasn’t able to come.”

“Yeah, but we’ll Skype every day. She’ll be fine”

 

Scott and Stiles were driving to San Francisco with the pack for a week to attend the “Super-Con” that Deaton had bought tickets for. He had told them it was a convention where they held meetings, lectures and classes for all the supernatural folk in California. The pack had been instructed to rent a suite at the hotel the convention was being hosted at, and to learn everything they possibly could in the week they were there.

 

On the last day of the convention, a huge ball was held. There was a Centaur string quartet and elves that glided gracefully through the crowds with trays of champagne and hors-d’oeuvres. There was Derek in a midnight-blue tuxedo. That, thought Stiles, was a sight finer than any of the expensive dresses and suits the attendees were showing off. Derek made a point to speak with every Alpha or group leader he could throughout the evening. He danced with anyone who seemed interested and — 

 

“Damn, Scotty, I want a piece of that.”

Scott glanced over at Derek then back at Stiles with a stricken look on his face. 

“No, Stiles, don’t embarrass yourself,”

“I’m not going to embarrass myself, Scotty, I’m just asking him to dance.”

“Exactly! You can’t dance!”

“I’ve been practicing, you’ll see.”

 

Stiles went over to Derek, who was making small talk with a satyr. 

“Excuse me, sir, may I have this dance?”

Derek turned to Stiles with a smile playing on his lips. 

“You may have this dance and every other.”

 

Stiles’ heart swelled as Derek took his hand and led him onto the floor. They waltzed, and Stiles didn’t make a single misstep.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Hope y'all enjoyed it! Leave a comment or find me on tumblr at elsie-phoenix.tumblr.com


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